


all i am, is all that i can give you

by evaneddie



Series: dhylen writes one shots [64]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Idk what to tag this as, Loss, M/M, alcohol tw, post 15x18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27473212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evaneddie/pseuds/evaneddie
Summary: dean isn't handling things well. cas is gone, he's not talking to sam, he's drinking, and to top it all off jack left three weeks ago and hasn't returned yet.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: dhylen writes one shots [64]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1433956
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	all i am, is all that i can give you

**Author's Note:**

> post 15x18. hopefully we get something redeeming out of the next two episodes, otherwise all this pain will be for nothing. 
> 
> i haven't written anything in forever, and i haven't written fic in ages either (yay mental illnesses) so if this is trash i apologise. i just needed to get this out of my brain. i hope y'all enjoy at least a little :/
> 
> go follow me on tumblr @ghostlyyalex if you wanna! (i'm not very active lately, but hopefully when i start new meds i feel better)

For the first few nights after Castiel left him, Dean had silently sobbed himself to sleep, gasping raggedly into his pillows, wondering why the universe was so against him, against his happiness, against him just being okay. But after Jack and Michael had finally caged God in Heaven once and for all, Dean felt nothing. He couldn't cry, he couldn't talk, or eat, or sleep without waking up at least every hour. Everything feels just crushing on his chest, overwhelming in a way he never wants to experience again. It's all too much, but jot enough. He wants to feel again, to feel things. Like he did... well, before everything that has happened in the last year.

Then Jack left. Not in the same way Cas did, but left without telling Dean where he was going or what he was doing. He does, however, have his suspicions that Sam knows but isn't revealing it. It's not like Dean is really in the right headspace to ask either. It's been three weeks now, and Dean is starting to feel the anger set in. An emotion he really doesn't want right now.

Soon, he would be done with this job, this thing he has made his life for as long as he can remember. Soon. He can't go on forever, especially now.

Why did he sit quietly, watching Cas get taken by the empty? Sure, he was a little in shock, and quite frankly scared out of his freaking mind, but he wonders how that's a good enough excuse. It's not, is it? There's so many things he could have said. So many things he could have done. If he had done so, would things be different? Or would he have still lost his best friend?

He didn't even try to stop it from happening. What kind of a person does that? A coward?

The words the angel spoke echo in his mind. Words that counterpoint Deans thoughts on how he sees himself. In Cas' eyes, he's not a coward. Probably not to anyone else that truly cares about him either. Why can't he see it their way?

Saying 'I love you' to anyone is not really Dean's strong point. But hearing that exact phrase from the one person he never thought possible, made him want to yell it back, to beg Cas harder to stay, to not leave him behind. But he couldn't, he could barely say anything, only stare in fear and confusion. Why would Cas sacrifice himself? It's not fair.

The moment the blackness had left the room, Sam was calling Dean's phone, but he couldn't answer. He could only cry into his hands as his heart ripped and tore itself into tiny shreds. Only then was Dean able to utter a few words into the bare room.

_Me too._

Three weeks later, and Dean trudges around the bunker, ignoring any words from his brother. He feels terrible about it, sure. Dean isn't the only person who has lost somebody. But he can't bring himself to talk without breaking down. And breaking down isn't something he does often, particularly not in front of others.

Emotions aren't something Dean likes all that much. He doesn't mind feeling them, enjoys them most times. But sharing and talking about them? No thanks.

Sitting solemnly in the kitchen, he downs yet another glass of burning ember liquid; the only way he can seem to cope and get through the day lately. Sam has been begging him to leave the bunker, to get some fresh air and sunlight. But honestly, what is even the point? Everything is so dull anyways. So, he stays. He stays, and he drinks, and he listens to music blasting at a decibel that is easily considered way too high through his headphones.

"Dean," he hears softly calling out to him, but he ignores it. Because of course he does. 

"Come on, man. I have something to show you, and you don't even have to speak." Sam's voice has been nothing but sympathetic and raspy these last few weeks, and Dean hates it with a passion. He doesn't need sympathy. He needs more time. More time to do things he wants, to say what he needs to.

In front of his tired eyes, Dean watches a hand grab for the glass of freshly poured scotch, and thanks to his years of training, in lightning speed he can snatch it away without spilling a single drop.

"Fine, keep it, but come with me. Jack's back."

Though he's not feeling well as of late, that does perk him up just a little. Hearing the kid's name? The kid he vowed to keep safe, the kid that has been a welcome addition to the family. 

Should Dean have told Cas sooner how he felt about him? Feels, he reminds himself. Just because Cass is gone, doesn't mean Dean's feelings stop just like that. Shit, he was so scared of what it meant that he just buried it so freaking deep inside, causing it to come flooding back, bursting out at the wrong time.

Cas' happiness was here, with Sam, Jack and Dean. Dean. Cas loved him. How is that even a remote possibility? None of it makes sense. If he was so sure, why did he wait so long to say anything? Why did he wait until the last second he had to tell him? He'd looked so happy at the end, so peaceful, like the weight of the entire world had been lifted off his shoulders.

Fuck, he wants to cry. But he can't. He did enough of that in three days that it's dried him up ever since.

Jack gives a small wave and soft smile when he sees Dean in his disheveled glory. He doesn't care how Dean looks, just glad that he's still here, whatever that means now. 

Not responding, Dean stands there, stiff as a board. It's not like he isn't glad that Jack is back, he is, one hundred percent. But he just can't deal with any of this right now. "Dean," Jack whispers as he steps forward to pat the older gentleman's shoulder, a gesture he must have picked up on over time with the guys.

Then, something he never thought he would hear again. "Hello, Dean," is Cas' low voice, talking in his head.

Why now? It's been three weeks. Why hasn't he been able to hear that voice before now? 

_I miss you, man._

Once, when Dean had been left before, he prayed to the man that had left him, prayed even when he didn't believe in it. Cas had gotten his messages that time, and maybe he can now too. Closing his eyes, he squeezes them tight.

_I'm so sorry I couldn't do anything._

"Dean?" he hears the voice again.

"Get out of my head!" It takes a few gasping breaths for him to get his composure and speak - yell - again. "I already miss you so much, and I can't handle hearing your voice right now, it's making it worse!"

He hates this. He hates this so much. This is so much worse than the end of the world. At least Cas was by his side then.

The liquid in his cup burns the insides of his throat and all the way down past his lungs as he takes the entire thing in in gulps, leaving no room for air. A wave of hot rage swarms his ever fibre, tingling in his fingertips, buzzing in his brain, aching in his chest. He throws the glass off to the side, tossing as hard as he can at the wall, watching it shatter on impact, hearing the sound. 

If he focuses on that, maybe he can get Cas' voice out of his ears. Maybe it will overpower everything else.

"You have to stop," Sam says sternly, as if the tone of his voice is going to make a difference, but at least he's trying. Finally, for the first time in a long time, Dean looks into Sam's eyes. 

Before, Dean was hurting. But now? Seeing Sam with tears swimming in his eyes, knowing that he isn't alone, that Sam is feeling as much loss as he is, damn near kills him.

He's always made a point to not cry in front of others as much as he can help it. Always had to be the strong one. For Sammy, for their mother, their dad, Jack, and so many others. But it's okay to let that go for a moment, especially in times like these.

In a flash, his legs can no longer hold the weight of his drained body, his eyes can't hold back the tears of anguish and anger. As he falls to his knees, he feels hands on his back, and he hears voices, but they're all so far away, so muffled and incoherent.

There's only one he can make out, even over his pained cries. It's Cas, calling his name, telling him to breathe. In his head, not leaving him alone for even a moment. Someday, maybe he could learn to live with it, but today just isn't that. "Please," he sobs, "get out of my head."

Lungs constricting, chest heaving, and tears rolling down his cheeks, Dean doesn't give a rat's ass about hiding how he feels. He knows that he can't go through this alone. Cement ground beneath him takes a few hits from his balled up fist as he yells out in tears, until he feels a hand clamping around it, stopping him. Dean doesn't have the energy to look up and see which of his two brother's have stopped him.

"Dean," Jack says quietly, breaking through the fog. "It's not in your head."

What the actual shit is that supposed to mean Jack? Dean is hearing voices and you're telling him that it's real?

Wait, it's real? It can't be.

Flinging his head up, he swear he hears it crack in multiple places with the speed and velocity he moves at. But Cas is there, right in front of him, sitting back on his legs, wearing his trenchcoat like always. Dean loves that stupid trenchcoat. The hand holding Dean's bloody fist is none other Castiel's.

"Wha- how?"

Stepping back with Sam, Jack pipes up softly, sniffling ever so slightly. "I've pulled him from the empty before. But I needed extra help this time, because it was much harder."

"That's why he was gone for so long, Dean," Sam interrupts. "He was trying to find a way to bring Cas back to us, to you."

To you. But it's not just for Dean. Cas deserves a life too. To bring Cass back to Dean? It's all Dean's wanted for twenty-one days.

"You're real?" asks Dean, still crying in a horrific position on the ground, something that can't be good for his ageing knees.

"I've lost you more times than I can count, but I always come back. I needed to come back." It's Cas' voice, it's his face, his hands, it's his kind eyes, and his sharp smile. It's him. Real and in the flesh.

Slowly, Cas stands, holding out his hands for Dean to grab, to steady himself on as he gets up too. Gratefully, Dean obliges. The second they stand, Dean - the one who doesn't often show his softer side - pulls Cas into a bone crushing hug.

His arms wind around Cas' midsection, and it takes a moment for the angel to respond, but it's not too long. He, too, holds Dean hard, arms gracefully around the other's neck. 

Holding back his tears, Dean buries his face into the crook of Cas' shoulder, inhaling lightly, smelling the scent that can only be described as Castiel. Nothing else smells like him. It smells like home.

"I'm here," Cas mutters.

"I am so sorry-"

"Don't you dare apologise, none of this was your fault. I told you. I made a deal, for when I found happiness, and I stuck true to my word." Breathing in shakily, Cas loosens his hold, and Dean quickly gets the picture, releasing his grip too.

When they pull apart, Dean notices that both Sam and Jack have migrated somewhere else for now, and he's never been more thankful for that.

"Happiness? In saying those words?" Is he really doing this?

Cas nods, "I meant every word," he says assuring Dean he only told the truth before he was gone.

"Good," Dean replies, nervously scratching at his scalp, adverting his eyes a little. "I wanted more time, to fully process it all, to say something - anything - back. But I couldn't, not then"

"Dean, you don't have to say anything."

He wants to, he needs it. "No, I do. I'm not as good at speeches as you are, or even Sammy. But I want you to know that losing you? It broke me."

It honestly did more than break him. He wasn't functioning as a human being if he's being completely truthful. "I feel the same way." Dean takes a beat, "about you, of course. Not about me."

Chuckling wetly, Cas stares at Dean, waiting for him to continue. 

"You are one of the best things to ever happen to me. I, uh, I guess I'm saying that I love you." Tears still fill the brims of his eyes, making his vision blurry, but he can see enough to know that Cas is smiling from ear to ear.

"That makes me very happy to hear, Dean," Cas whispers.

For a while they just stand there, not saying anything, just letting the moment soak in.

"What now?" Dean breaks the silence by questioning.

"Well, I'm completely human now, so I don't know. What do humans usually do after moments like these?" 

He knows. He knows exactly what he's doing, and Dean can see it a mile away, but that doesn't make him hate it. He just playfully rolls his eyes, steps forward to close the gap between them, and lightly cups Cas' face in his tender hand. It's a soft gesture, something that feels like it's coming as second nature, like he doesn't need to think about it. "Usually it goes a little something like this."

But before Dean can move, Cas is craning his neck, and he's pressing their foreheads together, and placing a barely there soft kiss on Dean's mouth. It's like a feather touch, and Dean almost combusts in that moment. 

Smiling carefully into it, Dean presses further in, doing the one things he's wanted to do for so long he can't even recall when it started invading his brain. 


End file.
